Читать книгу The Dare Collection July 2019 - Nicola Marsh, Katee Robert, Katee Robert - Страница 20

CAMERON MIGHT NOT be entirely in tune with other people’s emotions, but he would have had to be particularly dense not to notice something was wrong with Trish. After their lunch break, she’d been subdued, her light dimmed. He’d tried to catch her eye a few times, but she resolutely refused to look his way. He could explain it away as her focusing on the deal...

Right up until she tried that same shit as they walked back to the suite.

He noticed a sign for a pub and hooked her waist. “Dinner.”

“I’m not hungry.”

Oh yeah, Trish was pissed. Cameron ignored her protest and guided her into the low light of the pub. He took a quick look around and headed for a table far enough into the room that she wouldn’t get a chill when the door was opened to let a draft in. He held out a chair for her, his irritation battling with amusement as she huffed and dropped into it.

Once he was settled on the other side, he leaned forward and lowered his voice. “Now you’re going to tell me what crawled up your ass back there. I played the good boy and kept my mouth shut, and the deal went off without a hitch. Which means something else happened to make you mad. Tell me.”

Trish shrugged out of her coat and let it drape over her chair. Then she started shredding the paper napkin in front of her. Her anger disappeared, replaced by...embarrassment? She finally sighed. “I’ll book my return ticket to New York as soon as we get back to our rooms.”

He sat back. “I know you’re pissed, but running back to the city seems a little dramatic, don’t you think?”

“Dramatic?” Her light brows slammed together. “Are you kidding me? I’m not being dramatic. I’m being reasonable. You don’t get to call me dramatic.”

He knew better than to point out that her tirade was nothing if not dramatic. “Something upset you. If you need to yell at me to get around to telling me what it was, fine. But you will tell me.”

She drew a breath for what seemed like a solid dressing-down, but deflated on the exhale. “This is going to end.”

Cameron went still. “If you want—”

“No, no, it has nothing to do with want. It has to do with reality. And the reality is that this is going to end.” She gave a sad smile. “Every relationship either ends or results in marriage. Even this one.” Before he had a chance to process that, she was off to the races again. “I mean, it’s whatever. We knew this was coming. It’s just showing up a little earlier than I thought and it surprised me and sometimes I react poorly to surprises. I know it’s not your fault. Of course it’s not your fault. It’s just the way things are.”

He caught the bartender’s eye. “Two shots of whiskey, please.”

If anything, Trish frowned harder. “I don’t see how whiskey is going to help anything.”

“A little bit of whiskey helps everything.” When she stared, he shrugged. “It’s when you tip into too much whiskey that the trouble starts. This conversation calls for a single shot.”

When said shot was delivered to their table, he slid one over to rest in front of her. Cameron raised his glass and waited. With a put-upon sigh, Trish did the same. They took them smoothly and the soft clink of glass hitting the wood table was soothing in its own way. He leaned forward again. “Now, down to business.”

“If you’re going to—”

“Why the fuck do you think this is ending?”

She stopped. Stared. “What?”

Cameron spoke softly and clearly. “Do you want this thing between us to end?”

“It doesn’t matter what I want.”

“If it didn’t matter, then I wouldn’t ask you. But I am asking, Trish—do you want this to end?”

She narrowed her eyes. “No. Of course not. I’m enjoying being with you.”

Damning him with faint praise, wasn’t she? It didn’t matter. He’d take it if it meant she didn’t call the whole thing off. He hadn’t put much thought into the after that would come when reality intruded on their little oasis of pleasure. That was Cameron’s mistake, because Trish sure as fuck had been thinking about long-term implications. He reached out and took her hands in his. “I’m not ready to let you go.”

He wasn’t sure he’d ever be ready to let her go, but now was hardly the time to broach the subject, with her on the verge of panicking. Cameron had to find a way to ease her into the idea. First, though, they had to navigate through the current issue.

Her pink lips moved but no sound came out. Finally Trish shook her head. “I don’t get it. I don’t get you. A fling is one thing, but a long-distance fling is more than a little ridiculous...”

What was she talking about? “What’s long-distance?”

Her hands tensed beneath his. “The contract is finalized. That’s all I was here for.”

Realization dawned, and he almost laughed in relief. This, at least, had a simple fix. “Woman, you aren’t going back to New York without me. You’re staying until we get their preliminary security set up.”

“What are you talking about? Why would I stay?”

“If Aaron was in the office, it would be a different story, but for the time being, I am Tandem Security. That means I need you with me to do your job wherever I am. Most of the time that’s in the office, but I can work remotely as required, which is what’s going to happen while I’m needed here for Concord Inc. That means you’re here, too.”

That means we don’t have to have a conversation about this ending yet.

“You’re serious.”

“Yes.” He met her gaze steadily. “Unless you want to leave. Aside from client meetings—which we won’t be having until I’m back in the States, there technically isn’t anything that requires your physical presence. It will make things more challenging, but it’s doable.”

Trish tilted her head to the side. “Do you want me to leave?”

Now was the time to retreat, to allow her to make the choice for herself without him appearing to pressure her. But... Cameron only had one answer to that question and he was incapable of lying. Not to her. Not when it would endanger what little chance they had. “No.” He said the word on an exhale, but once it broke the stillness emerging between them, it was easier to let the honesty flow. “I don’t want you to leave. I don’t want this to end.”

She gave him a look like she wasn’t sure if he meant their trip or them, but Cameron left her to draw her own conclusions. He never would have pegged Trish as skittish—not when she was a one-woman wrecking ball—but there were definite nerves showing around her too-wide eyes.

The bartender saved them when he tossed two menus onto the table. “You going to eat?”

“Fish and chips?” When Trish nodded, Cameron looked at the bartender. “Fish and chips for both of us.”

“All right, then.” He snatched up the menus and walked off as quickly as he’d approached.

Trish cleared her throat. “So, this is getting super awkward super fast and I don’t know how to deal with it, and I don’t know how I want to deal with it, so I’m just going to ignore it for the time being.”

Her penchant for talking in run-on sentences when she was nervous shouldn’t be endearing, but Cameron had given up trying to reason away his attraction to the woman. Even when she was driving him up the wall, he still found himself drawn to her.

But he could give her a reprieve for the time being. She obviously wasn’t ready to make a decision about staying or going—both on a plane and in his bed—so Cameron scooted his chair back the slightest bit to give her space. “How do you feel about ghosts?”

Trish blinked. “Ghosts?”

“Yeah, you know...ghosts. Whether you believe they’re energy or memories or literal souls doesn’t matter.”

Another slow blink. “I think I’m hallucinating because nothing coming out of your mouth makes a lick of sense.”

“We’re in London. There’s half a dozen haunted tours within easy walking distance. There’s one starting in an hour or so. It’s entertaining, to say the least.”

“But...ghosts. That doesn’t seem like something you’d be into.”

It wasn’t, but she’d confessed her love of scary movies, so he’d looked it up this morning while she was in the shower. Logic said that sort of thing would go hand in hand, and as much as Cameron wanted to toss her over his shoulder and haul her back to bed until they were required somewhere, Trish had never been to London before. It was entirely possible she’d like to explore a bit.

He shifted, not sure how to deal with how closely she watched him. “I thought you might be interested in it.”

* * *

Trish must have hit her head. It was the only explanation that made sense. She studied her water, trying to reconcile the man sitting across from her, shifting like a schoolboy who’d done something wrong and didn’t want to admit it, with the confident boss she’d come to expect. “You want to go on a haunted tour,” she said again, as if repeating it enough times would transfer the meaning of the words.

“We don’t have to.” There it was again—Cameron’s almost-guilt.

Because he doesn’t care about ghost tours. He looked up the schedule because you do.

She took a hasty sip of her water and set the glass back on the table. “I would love to do a haunted tour.” She noted the almost imperceptible relaxing of his shoulders. It wasn’t guilt she read from Cameron—it was nerves.

The realization almost made her laugh. She’d spent so much time tripping over her own feet in front of him, it had never occurred to her that he might be in over his head, too. The ground centered a bit below her feet, her perverse nature liking that he didn’t have a playbook he was pulling from. Not that she’d believed that, exactly. Cameron was many things, but a playboy didn’t make the list. That said, he obviously wasn’t the settling-down type or he would have done it by now.

Unless he hasn’t found the right person to settle down with...

Stop that.

You don’t even know where you’re going to land yet. You can’t make choices one way or another when it comes to being with another person. Even without all the stuff stacked against you, it would never work.

She didn’t want to think about that right now. Reality seemed very far away with them sitting in a darkened pub in the middle of freaking London. Trish cautiously reached out and touched his forearm. “Could we...” She swallowed hard, gathering her courage around her. “Could we table any conversations about the future for now? At least until we get back?”

“We’re only going to be here about a week.”

Such a short time and yet longer than she would have dared when she let herself imagine what it would be like if Cameron gave in to the pull between them. It will have to be enough. “The question stands.”

His dark eyes searched her face. “That’s what you want? Not to talk about anything too scary for the time we’re here.”

“Well, any haunted tour worth its salt is a little bit scary.” Her joke fell flat as the bartender appeared and set food on the table in front of them. Her mouth watered as she took in the crispy fish and chips. Oh yeah, I love London.

“Trish.”

She reluctantly dragged her gaze away from her food and back to his face. “Yeah?”

“You can have this week. After that, we’re having a conversation.”

A conversation destined to be the death knell of their fling. The writing couldn’t have been clearer on that particular wall. All she had to do was open her mouth and tell him she wanted to call the whole thing off—that it was wiser for her to leave things as they were and get the hell out of the UK and back to New York, where she could at least pretend she had her head on straight. They’d had sex a few times, but easy enough to chalk it up to temporary insanity and hope a week apart would be enough to cool their chemistry.

Leaving was the smart thing to do, and Trish always did the smart thing.

But she found herself smiling at Cameron. “Tell me about this haunted tour.”